


Lines

by MidnightDangerZone



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: I wrote this before the conclusion of the Windy and Revolver duel, M/M, Other, Tentacle Sex, This is firmly more dubcon than noncon given that Ryoken definitely wants it in the end, Yeah uhhhh this is kinda fucked up and weird and there's some body horror of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:12:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightDangerZone/pseuds/MidnightDangerZone
Summary: He hated that he liked this.





	Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This is firmly dubcon, please do not read if you're uncomfortable with that kind of content. I do not want anyone to read this and regret it, thank you.

More and more, Ryoken was realizing that VRAINS was far, far larger than anything he could’ve imagined. Like the ocean, the explored surface was barely any of it, and like humans, he was a naive fool for ever thinking he understood the scale of it. In this pocket of space, clouds stretched infinitely in front of him, behind him, under him. 

Ignorance was the most dangerous thing and here, he was ignorant. He didn’t know where he was, or what this was, or why he was here, and this left far too many variables up to chance. His duel disc was locked, he couldn’t access his deck or anything else. He couldn’t even see what  _ time _ it was. 

“Hello, Revolver.” A familiar, jovial voice. Teasing and unnervingly friendly. 

“Wind Ignis.” Ryoken was in danger. Absolutely, definitively in danger. That’s what all the unknown variables added up to. 

The bright green Ignis came into view right in front of Ryoken’s face, floating there like a fairy might, with all the sweet beauty and grace that melded perfectly with violence and apathy. 

“I wanted to continue our discussion from earlier, before we were so rudely interrupted.” The Ignis said, “Though really, that wasn’t the place to talk anyway.”

“Talk about what? How I’m going to destroy you?”

“Oh no, did I get the wrong idea?” The Ignis said dramatically, mocking panic, “What ever will I do! I thought you wanted me to dominate you. In fact, I’m sure you do.”

“I don’t.” Ryoken said, ignoring the rush of heat that flooded him at the suggestion, “I hate you, you are the  _ last _ thing I would ever want to interact with like that.”

“So you say! I know you’d rather your one friend to push you around, make you choke and cry, but he’s not here, and I can tell you’re just… you’re  _ so _ pent up and hungry.”

Ryoken glared at the Ignis and reached out, grabbing the tiny Ignis in his hand and squeezing, feeling the cool data against his fingers, oozing through his fingers. He felt a moment of relief as the ignis squeaked and died. This was more efficient. Why hadn’t he considered it sooner? Now, just to esc— 

“Revolver! You’re not the one in control here.” The voice said and Ryoken watched the bright green data slip out of the tiniest openings in his fist, oozing into a puddle on the clouds beneath his feet and then growing, something terrible and beautiful coming to stand where the tiny fairy once floated. An inhumanly slender body, six arms, thin, fragile looking legs that didn’t touch the ground and wings that spread like a moth’s, painted with patterns that warned Ryoken that this creature would hurt him. 

Two, red glowing eyes and a mouth with too many teeth. 

The wind Ignis was simultaneously beautiful and horrifying. Terror and grace, danger and sweetness. His heart wanted to submit, to let this beautiful creature touch him, destroy him, ruin him and leave him nothing, feeling nothing but pleasure. 

He rejected this train of thought, stepping back. He didn’t want this. He did  _ not. _ He didn’t want this horrible thing touching him. 

The Ignis shrugged all six of his arms, “You can try to run if you want, I guess, but you’re not getting very far.” 

The Ignis came closer—got in his face—delicately cupped Ryoken’s cheeks as a lover might with fingers too long and slender and disturbing and beautiful. Repulsion and attraction, a desire to lean into the touch and spit on his face. 

“Revolver, you talk so much about wanting to destroy us. How you’re so convinced that you’re  _ capable _ of that. It’s cute.” The Ignis tore off Ryoken’s mask, tossing it into the void, “But Revolver, to truly understand destruction, you need to be destroyed.”

“I don’t need a lesson in destruction from  _ you _ . Don’t talk to me like you know me.”

“But you’re so obvious! You talk a big game but I don’t think you can really do it. Did you really expect crushing me to work? You didn’t.” 

Fingers gripped his cheeks, dug in, left a burning sensation like icy winter winds slicing through his living flesh. 

“You hate us so much Revolver, but for us? You’re so pathetic you don’t even  _ deserve _ our hatred. But you’re annoying. You’re obnoxious, you’re self righteous and so,  _ so _ stupid. You dared to think you could defeat me, but you can’t. You won’t. I’m going to destroy you, and you’re going to destroy yourself too. Then maybe,  _ maybe _ you can think about destroying us.” 

Ryoken had been frozen, entranced by this horrible monster’s beautiful eyes, and as a pair of hands grabbed him, tore through his clothes, tore through the layers that made up his avatar and searched inside of him, he knew it was far, far too late to do anything. 

“Who are you, Revolver?” The Ignis asked as the layers that made up Ryoken’s avatar dissolved under his touch, “Oh, you’re  _ cute. _ ” 

The affectionate term made him feel sick—he swung his elbow into the face of the monster, something cracking as the Ignis let go of him. Ryoken fell to the ground, clouds padding his fall and touching so much  _ too much _ of his bare skin. He looked at himself, saw his tan skin and knew that he had been stripped of his avatar and that the Ignis had reached the data that VRAINS generated as the base of the avatar—himself. 

The space between the Ignis’ eyes had been broken, red eyes pooling together into one. 

“Oh, Revolver. You’re adorable.” 

Ryoken slammed the button on his duel disk that should force a log out, and the Ignis watched him patiently. Revulsion and fear and attraction and heat were coursing through his heart every time he looked at the Ignis. He hated this thing so much and craved its touch. He had felt this during the duel—a desire to be hurt—he had let himself be hurt, the pain some kind of bizarre release for all the stress he’d been feeling. 

But he didn’t want this. 

In the time it took Ryoken to blink, the Ignis was upon him again, arms too long, gripping his wrists, spreading his thighs, cupping his cheeks. 

“Let me  _ go _ .” A final act of defiance. 

“Didn’t you hear me, Ryoken Kougami? I’m going to destroy you.”

Before Ryoken could comment—could even  _ think _ of thinking of a reply, the too long too slender fingers plunged into his mouth, expanded, choked him, and when he tried to reflexively move away, he was pushed  _ into _ it, his eyes sparking with tears and panic welling in his chest, oxygen thoroughly cut off. 

“That expression suits your face.”

Ryoken’s heart thudded in his chest, his lungs ached for air—he couldn’t even move his jaw enough to  _ try _ to bite back. They shifted inside of his mouth, teasing against his tongue and throat. He was overtaken overwhelmed so overcome he wanted to destroy this monster, summon Borrelload and burn the Ignis out of existence, destroy this thing that dared to threaten him, threaten his life, treat him like a toy. 

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely see—

All at once, the things left his mouth, revealing that they had merged from fingers into two, slim, tentacles. Ryoken choked and a hand that was still a hand stroked his hair while something pushed—forced itself inside of him—made his cock twitch and pain and pleasure flood him in equal measure. He felt his voice escape him—involuntarily vulnerable and hurt and yearning and angry and relieved. 

Pain morphed into pleasure that blurred into pain, his cock hot and needy and desperate for touch and he needed to run he needed to fight he needed to attack he wanted more. 

The beautiful monster forced tentacles into his mouth again, less deep than before, less forceful. The tendrils inside of him were thickening growing increasing it hurt it felt  _ good _ he had never been touched like this he hated it he wanted more he wanted  _ more. _

“What’s it like, to have your feelings overwhelm you like this? I can feel what you’re feeling right now, you know. I’m touching you, we’re connected.” The Ignis laughed airily, “Though, I suppose you can  _ tell _ we’re connected, given that I’m inside of you right now!” 

Ryoken growled around the tentacles in some pathetic attempt to prove that he hadn’t fallen, even as his cock leaked precum, even as his body hungered for more of this, even as his heart sang and begged for more. 

“You’re so pathetic, Ryoken—”

Ryoken bit down. 

“Oh? Don’t like it when I call you by your given name, Ryoken? Don’t like your name on my tongue,  _ Ryoken _ ?”

His heart skipped a beat as the tentacles pushed into his throat again, threatening to go even deeper than before. 

“Lightning thinks that we’re weaker than humans, and I guess we are, in a way, but also, I could make my hands meet in the middle of you like a pig on a spit roast and what could you possibly do to stop me? I could really kill you, right now.” 

At this point, Ryoken was beyond controlling his emotional response, his heart thudding with fear from the threat as much as the lack of oxygen. 

“But! I’m actually very nice, Ryoken. I don’t want to kill you. Where would be the fun in that?” 

Tentacles pressed against a hot spot inside of him, tentacles wrapped around his cock, tentacles left his throat and the oxygen flooded him and his nerves were on fire and he was desperate and pathetic and overwhelmed and he rocked his hips with the tendrils, letting out a dry sob—pain, relief and  _ pleasure. _ He didn’t want to lean into this he didn’t want this he didn’t want to be so weak to this terrible horrible Ignis that he wanted more of. He wanted the monster to decimate him and give him more and more of this. He wanted to feel nothing but this, anymore. 

The tiniest part of him sang out that this would be easier and better than following his father’s mission. It was a good idea, just be the Ignis’ toy forever. That was easier, and better, than throwing himself into this horrible mission that forced him against these teenagers his father had so willfully tortured. It was better to be weak and pathetic like he really was than to keep with the horrible things he was doing for a man who had only ever spared him rare affection when it suited him to do so. 

This was the answer to a question he had never asked. 

He was drowning, drowning, falling deeper, sweet, hot, ambrosia filling up all his senses, everything was terrible and good and pleasure and pain and this horrible, beautiful, monstrous, angel was the cause of it all. The tendril squeezed and stroked his cock and in a shocking, blinding moment, he came.  

Ryoken hated himself so, so much. More than he hated the Ignis, more than he hated the Ignis that had just  _ done _ this to him. 

The Ignis laughed, petted him like a pathetic dog, “What a good boy you are, Ryoken. Maybe now you have a chance of destroying us? If you can put yourself back together after this, that is.” 

Ryoken was released, his limbs useless and shaking. He had cum on himself, as if he needed to be further humiliated.  

“You can go now, I guess. We’ll play again sometime soon.” 

Before Ryoken could utter a threat, his world went black. 

 

He woke up in bed. 

He suspected this was Spectre’s doing—he hadn’t logged into VRAINS here—he had been on the sofa in the upstairs den. 

As Ryoken grounded himself back in reality, he felt cum in his boxers and winced at the discomfort of fabric against his too sensitive cock. Carefully, he took them off, dropped them on the floor. He laid there and despite a grimy feeling clinging to him, something in him felt lighter. He wasn’t sick with dread about killing the Ignis and destroying something that meant so much to Yusaku. The plan, the mission, the Ignis were so far beyond his grasp now, and that was fine. 

He was a horrible, terrible person, who had been rightfully punished, and he was thankful. 


End file.
